Black Angel
by shadoewhunter
Summary: During a fight against their target, Yohji contemplates his existence and who is the villian here.


DISCLAIMER: I don't have the rights to do anything but I'm doin' it anyways. So sue at your own discretion 'cuz there's nothing you can get anyways. This story kind of just popped into my head and so I'm writing it down.

            BTW, to clarify if this was shonen-ai. Well, how about this…what if it  was shonen-ai? What about if they were just a sad group of friends? I dunno…..do you think it's shonen-ai? Does it even matter?

**The Black Angel**

            "Please don't hurt me." The girl said, shaking visibly as she gripped the remote control in her left hand, the black handgun in her right.

            "Please?" I stood there, staring at her, who held so tightly in her hands the lives of my two companions.

            Aya yelled from the second level down to me.

            "Yohji! Kill her!" The order, so far away, was so easy to give and should have been so easy to follow. 

            I could feel the wires in my hands running grooves into my gloves. The girl was trembling, her mascara running in inky lines down her face, the heavy make-up having been ruined by her tears. She licked her dry lips, the lipstick already smeared from our earlier tussle. 

            "Don't kill me. " She said, eyes wide in fear and something else. Her eyes were gleaming in terror, terrified of her own death, her own loses, but also shadowed in hatred. Shadowed with her hatred of me and the other three weiss.

            "Balinese!" Aya's bark rang in my ear once again. Was he always so cold and demanding? No. No, he wasn't. I remember watching silently from the balcony down into the courtyard when he came home from the hospital that night. The look of human weakness on his face, the traces of humanity that had fallen, washed, and dried on his cheeks as the moon had flickered over his mournful violet eyes, so unlike our Aya, unlike the single-minded killer that stood above me, slicing at the men that fought against him. 

            "Why'd you guys come? Why do you have to interfere!" The girl screamed at me. She couldn't have been older than Omi, nineteen maybe, to judge from her figure, too old to be a child, too young to know about life. How had she come to be like this and why? To kill men for their money, deceiving them with looks, a beautifully cultivated mask, and then shooting them when they came close enough. Close enough to love, close enough to kill. The girl's eyes bore into me accusingly. Where was the logic and justice in this world?

            "Let them go." My voice came out is a harsh forced whisper, so unlike my usual suaveness. I wouldn't have been surprised if it had cracked. Thank goodness for my dignity, it didn't. But the girl starred at me as if I had sprouted horns on my head, then threw her head back and laughed a cold laugh. Her laughter was old and worn, filled with the cynicism of her life. 

            "Let them…go? And to have you kill me the minute I drop the remote?" She sneered. "I'm not a fool, you murdering freak."

            Her eyes betrayed nothing of the tenderness that I had seen earlier. 

            "You liar. You led me on…" She murmured almost sadly, a voice that was at odds with her glare.

            I said nothing and shrugged. 

           "It takes one to know one," I said simply. I'm sorry but this is my life. My life is deceptions, one lie on top of another. I am Kudou Yohji, the casual bystander with a thousand masks, a thousand different faces, none of them real. Just like you, huh?

            As if that girl could hear my thoughts, she looked into my eyes and hissed.

            "You are a killer. No, worst! You tricked me! You made think you actually cared for me!" Her face was furious in hatred and anger, but her eyes glittered.

            I wanted to take out a cigarette and my hand actually twitched. I could almost see Ken still pounding on the metal door of the storage room, filled with money, jewels and bonds as well as detonation devices implanted in the walls. Was Omi still unconscious in there, still bleeding from the fight? I wonder if Ken has stopped by now and if he's trying to wake Omi.

            I looked at the girl's gun. It was a black berretta, .22 caliber from the look of the barrel. I stepped forward, wire in my hands and she aimed the gun at my chest. 

            "Let me go. Don't come any closer Yohji," She snarled, eyes narrowed in fear.

            "Or is that even your name at all? Bastard. Bastard!" She yelled, a tear leaking out and sliding down her left cheek. The cheek I had caressed and kissed only a few hours ago.

            "You have beautiful hands." I whispered to her in a low voice, complimenting and casual as if I were back at the café I'd first waited to meet her, our target.

            Her eyes widened and she spat.

            "Don't you dare use that voice with me! You traitor…you bastard!"

            I cocked my head at her, hands ready. I needed to save Ken and Omi. I needed to do this.

            "What if I said I love you?"

            She snarled at my words and lunged at me. I brought my body low and spun the wire around her wrist, forcing her to drop the remote. She screamed and scratched at my face as a quick kick removed the remote from her immediate vicinity. Her nails racked four burning gashed down my face knocking my glasses to the ground. I grabbed her and held her tightly to me. The first shot went into my gut and I could feel the muzzle burn against my stomach.

            I forced our way to the window, eight stories up and with a bloody hand forced her up against me, wrapping my wire around her neck. The second shot went into my chest. I deserved to be shot.

            I was no better than her really. I'd never say it, never would show it. But I had conned her like she had conned her victims, playing false affections and lavishing the care and attention onto that girl as only the skilled Yohji Kudou would know how. And now I'd have to kill her, the target that would never see daylight again.

            I can't save her. There was no other way. I tightened the wire around her neck and swung her out the window, her body shattering the glass into a million tears in the midnight light. Her cry ended abruptly as the backlash of her fall snapped her neck.

            I stumbled over to the cabinet where the remote had disappeared under, felt under it and pulled out the remote. I pressed the release button then physically crushed it to pieces under the heel of my foot. I swallowed hard as I felt the warmness seep into my jacket, the throbbing that had begun in  my chest as if my heartbeat were being amplified. I wonder if Ken is getting out now, if Omi would be alright.

            I didn't hear Aya kneel by my side. I hadn't even realized that I had fallen and collapsed against the open window where a taut wire still hung out from. 

            "You didn't want to kill her." He stated simply, looking at me as he sheathed his katana.

            Aya, forbidding simple-minded and uncaring. Would you ever care about the rest of us? Would you ever know how it feels to be the lost one? To be consumed by the loneliness and darkness, so empty that each night it hurts enough to kill and the only way to make the hurt go away is to force yourself to drink until you can cry without knowing why? 

            "I'm tired of my black mask, Aya," I whispered wondering why I was even speaking. "She didn't start out that way. She's right. I'm not any better."

            "I'm as heartless and manipulative as she. Why should I live and she have to die?" I asked feeling the tears well up inside. Damn it, I hated when people starred like that, with eyes that seemed to strip away the coverings to your soul. Those violet eyes forever took and never gave. 

            Suddenly I felt him reach under me and lift me up. I coughed in pain, gasping as I nearly collapsed again, sagging against the red-head. My glasses were crushed on the ground and I couldn't escape the piercing eyes as I asked huskily.

            "Why? Why save me?"

            He pulled me up and with one arm around waist; I stumbled forward resting my weight on him. I could hear the distant sound of Ken and Omi's voices calling for us. The little chibi must have woken up. Then he'd be alright.

            "Why Aya? Why help me?" I asked again, my voice raspy.

            He turned his face and looked me straight in the eye. I didn't turn away and evergreen met violet.

            "It's never too late for tomorrow, Yotan. Don't write your own epitaph when there are still those that care." I remained silent, shocked at his uncharacteristic words. Usually I played the older brother roles to Weiss.

            "Those…that…care?" I didn't even realize at first that this was the first time that he'd called me Yotan. He was the one who looked away this time before speaking very softly.

            "We are the white hunters, Yohji. You me, Omi, Ken. Weiss Kreuz in the black night. One day we will pay. But not today. Not now." His arm tightened and we trudged the pathway to meet the others. I said nothing and rested gratefully against his shoulder, feeling his determination even as my blood smeared stains onto his jacket. 

            Tomorrow when I wake, I may be wearing another of my thousand masks. Lover, enemy, deceiver, friend. After all, I am the black angel. Aya was right, one day we would pay for our sins as those we hunt pay for theirs. 

            But not today. Not today. 

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AN: Thax for reading! Please review, good or bad is fine! I love to get advice and comments. 

Hoped you enjoyed my poor writing! 


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